


Get Away With Me

by thomasthomas



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, More characters to be added later, Road Trips, idk what i'm even doing at this point but it seemed like a good idea, just u wait, or something like that, the rating will go up for future chapters, they work at a firm in NYC, this is gonna get gay, washington is their boss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasthomas/pseuds/thomasthomas
Summary: When Thomas and Alexander are assigned on a “bonding activity” by their boss, neither of them are quite sure what to expect. Much less were they expecting a road trip.Unsurprisingly, spending three weeks crossing the country with someone can really help you get to know them.





	1. Chicago, Chicago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the reason I haven't been updating my other fic is because I've been working on whatever the hell this is. Is this a good idea? Should I continue? let me know when you're done reading!
> 
> it may seem a bit slow now, but I have high expectations for this, so expect something more satisfying in the next chapter.
> 
> Thomas and Alexander are both in their 20s in this. Alexander is 23 and Thomas is 26. Make of that what you will. I just came up with those ages on the spot as i was typing these notes. such smart boys
> 
> anyway, enjoy! <3

There’s something romantic about road trips, something special about traveling across the country with the people you love.

Except, Alexander is not with the people he loves, and there is nothing _romantic_ about this trip.

Both Thomas and Alexander stare blankly at the trunk of their car, packed full of suitcases, the backseat full of everything one might need on a road trip. Snacks, beverages, blankets, pillows, you name it.

“Alright, let’s saddle up,” Thomas quips, slamming the trunk closed and climbing into the front seat of the car.

Of course, this trip wasn’t voluntary. They had been ordered by their boss to take a few weeks off and travel cross country, having no choice but to work together. An odd assignment, but eventually, and reluctantly, they agreed. Washington had called it some sort of “bonding” activity, a chance for them to spend some time together without the weight of work, and perhaps they could even make amends. However, both men know that Washington simply wanted a break from the constant bickering. Out of fear of losing their jobs, albeit unlikely, both men agreed.

Their relationship at work is somewhat _tense,_ as one might put it. The arguing never truly seemed to end, picking up over and over again, day after day. Washington had gotten several complaints about them, from “volume level” and “disrupting the calm demeanor of the workplace” to even “uncomfortable sexual tension.” Despite his best efforts, Alexander never found out who made that last comment.

“Right,” Alexander mumbles, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Oh, listen. If I’m going to be traveling over 2,000 miles with you, we’re at least going to try and make it fun,” Thomas stares at Alexander, not quite as opposed to the trip as he is.

“Oh, Thomas, I’m _so_ excited for our trip together! Let’s go drive into the sunset!” Alexander exclaims, a painfully fake smile plastered onto his face. “Was that better?” He deadpans, his face returning to its usual unamused state.

“Yes, much,” Thomas replies, ignoring the bite in Alexander’s voice. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Point A is at their law firm in New York, and the plan is to travel across the country to Seattle, making several stops to sightsee along the way. Thomas seems to be buzzing with excitement, and Alexander glares at him in all his frantic glory.

“I think we need to establish some rules,” Thomas insists, looking around thoughtfully. “We can switch drivers every… four hours? That sounds fair, I think. And,” Thomas looks Alexander squarely in the eye, his own brown eyes narrowing. “No complaining allowed.” Alexander rolls his eyes at that. “Our first stop will be in Chicago, which is approximately,” he pauses, momentarily tapping away at Google Maps. “13 hours away. Our endgame is Seattle, as you know. We better move now.”

“Okay,” Alex complies, not willing to put up any sort of argument at the moment. “Wake me up in four hours.” After a lengthy argument, the pair had decided to take Alexander’s old golden Honda Accord, as Thomas didn’t want to “ruin” his fancy new car by taking it cross-country. Despite the slightly rickety shape of his old car, Alexander was lucky enough to be able to recline the seat back to a comfortable position.

“Oh, no. We’re not taking this road trip just so you can sleep the whole time. Get your ass in gear.” Thomas shoved the keys into the ignition and the sickly car whirred to life, gassed up and ready to go. Alexander grumbled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

It’s not that he didn’t like road trips. Alexander loved a good road trip every once in a while. However, the person he was road tripping with was a less than satisfactory choice. Nothing quite like spending 42 hours in a car and several nights alone with someone you despise, right?

Alexander won’t go as far as to say he _hates_ Thomas. He doesn’t _hate_ anyone. Except maybe Washington for forcing him to go on this damn trip in the first place. To put it lightly, he… _dislikes_ the other man’s presence.

Thomas shifts the car into drive, pulls out of Alex’s apartment’s parking lot, and just like that, they’re on the road.

About an hour into their trip, not a single word has been spoken. Alexander is simply too proud to offer any sort of conversation to Thomas, instead entertaining himself with the license plates of passing cars. He stares objectively at the metal plates as the cars whiz by, recording all the foreign states he had seen so far in his brain. Delaware, Vermont, Virginia, California. What is a Californian doing so far away from home?

“Find any particularly interesting license plates?” Thomas asks, his voice laced with amusement.

“No,” Alex offers, glancing at Thomas, whose eyes are on him. “Eyes on the road.”

Thomas huffs and turns back to the freeway, clearly disappointed with his failed attempt at conversation. Alex is too stubborn to even allow the conversation to continue, too focused on convincing Thomas that he does _not_ want to be on this trip.

“Road trips are supposed to be fun,” Thomas grumbles. “Stop being such a buzzkill.”

“You seem to forget that I’ve been _forced_ into this road trip, dear Thomas.” Alexander’s voice drips with fake sincerity. “Shut up and drive.”

“Asshole,” Thomas mutters. He grips the steering wheel with anger, frustrated that Alexander isn’t even willing to put effort into this trip. Anger quickly turns to dread, and Thomas begrudgingly realizes that he’ll be stuck on a nearly three week trip with someone who’d probably rather die than be here with him. Sure, he dislikes Alexander as much as the next guy, but it was an entirely different situation when they’d be stuck together for three weeks.

Maybe he’d come around. Who could tell? Thomas takes to entertaining himself with the radio, humming along to the annoyingly catchy pop tuned that reverberated throughout the car. Upon glancing to his left, he notes that Alexander has drifted off to sleep. Thomas considers that maybe this is for the better, as most days Alexander shows up to the office with puffy, sleepy eyes.

He continues doing this for another hour, singing softly to himself. However, shortly after the two-hour mark, the undeniable human urge to use the bathroom creeps on Thomas, who searches the green road signs avidly for the next rest stop.

“Ooh,” Thomas says to himself as he sees the sign for a 7-Eleven pop up. “Don’t mind if I do.” What was the point of going on a road trip if not to indulge yourself in the wonderful flavor of a 7-Eleven slurpee?

He takes the nearest exit off the freeway, pulling into the 7-Eleven parking lot as soon as he spots it. Alexander dozes peacefully in the passenger seat, unawakened by the car’s movement, or lack thereof. Thomas figures there’s no point in waking him up, and, silently as he can, closes and locks the car doors behind him.

It’s at this moment that Alexander’s brain decides to release itself from the confines of sleep.

 _Oh, god,_ Alexander sits up in his seat, frantically observing his surroundings. _He finally did it. Thomas abandoned me in a 7-Eleven parking lot._

Alexander wonders if he was really being that big of an asshole to deserve this. He contemplates this until he sees Thomas walk out of the gas station, cherry slurpee in hand.

“Jefferson!” Alexander yells accusingly. He stomps up to the other man, arms pressed tight against his sides. “I thought you left me to die in a parking lot! How dare you? Even _I_ don’t deserve…”

The utterly confused look on Thomas’s face is what causes Alex to trail off. His very facial features spell out ‘What the fuck?’

“Alexander, what the hell are you talking about?” Thomas asks, voice nearly as confused as his face.

Is Alexander really that sleep deprived? Enough to the point where he thought he was being abandoned in a gas station parking lot? Apparently so.

“Sorry,” Alex replies, shaking his head. “That was dumb.” It was dumb, really.

“I was just peeing,” Thomas affirms, his face slowly softening back to its normal state. “Anyway, let’s get back on the road. Unless you have to pee, too. I didn’t want to wake you. You look like you need the sleep.”

Alexander ignores the off-handed jab at his appearance and nods, heading back to his respectful spot in the passenger seat. “Yeah, let’s.”

Somewhere along the road, Alexander finds himself singing along to the songs on the radio. Unable to fall back asleep after his gas station scare, he chooses to entertain himself in different ways. This includes stealing sips from Thomas’s slurpee when he thinks he isn’t looking.

“Hey!” Thomas exclaims when he catches him, unable to claim his drink back as both of his hands are occupied by the steering wheel. “I paid good money for that.”

“Oh, I’m sure the buck fifty this cost you made a _huge_ dent in your bank account,” Alexander shoots back, making sure to slurp obnoxiously loud.

“Don’t drink the whole thing!” Thomas is borderline shouting, right hand reaching out blindly in Alexander’s direction.

“Drink the whole thing? Well, only if you insist.” Alexander pops off the cap to the slurpee, an evil grin taking over his face. He tips the papery cup back, emptying the contents into his mouth. “Mm.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. It’s not like this is a special sweater, anyway. A gray crewneck he found at Goodwill one day, if he remembers correctly.

“Fuck you,” Thomas spits, clearly too serious about this whole slurpee business. He stares at the unending freeway, a pout quickly making its way onto his face.

 _Now he’s really gonna drop me off at a gas station parking lot,_ Alex thinks, rolling his eyes.

“It’s just a slurpee, chill. How long until Chicago, now?” Now that Alexander isn’t asleep, he’s actually quite concerned about the time passing by.

“‘Just a slurpee,’” Thomas mutters, not answering his question. This earns him another eye roll from Alexander.

Thomas keeps his attention solely on the road, eyes tracing over the neverending pavement. How long until Chicago, indeed. He must have been driving for at least three hours now, right? Where were they? Thomas hasn’t been paying much attention to the road signs, keeping his eyes only on the freeway, watching as people change lanes, and change lanes, and change lanes.

A sign signaling their arrival at Harrisburg allows Thomas some closure for his thoughts. “Pennsylvania,” he mumbles to himself, realizing they were a lot farther than he thought they were. Previous to the road sign, he wasn’t sure if they’d even escaped the hell that is New Jersey.

Alexander sits limply in his seat, tapping away at his phone.

Another wave of dread takes over Thomas. Already they’re in Pennsylvania, and the only enjoyment he’s gotten out of this trip is his slurpee. He isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but he holds road trips close to his heart, and this simply would not do.

Sneakily, his hand makes its way over to the volume knob. He cranks it until the music is reverberating through the car, the bass vibrating the seats beneath them. If Alexander wasn't going to have fun with him, he was going to make some fun of his own.

Thomas begins singing, his voice filling up any space the radio might have missed. The look Alexander shoots him his priceless, somewhere between annoyed and intrigued. Thomas knows he’s good at singing, a talent he indulges himself in when he’s alone at home. Which is nearly all the time.

For a brief moment, Alexander almost looks like he wants to compliment Thomas. _Almost._ Instead, he simply says, “This song is shit.”

Thomas scowls but continues singing, even louder than before.

For some ungodly reason, Alexander takes this as a challenge. He sings back at Thomas, his own smooth voice overpowering the other’s.

“Oh, ‘this song is shit,’” Thomas mocks, an amused look taking over his face. This is a challenge he’s willing to accept, though he knows he’d accept nearly any challenge Alexander throws at him.

“It’s shit when you sing it,” Alexander corrects himself. Thomas gasps dramatically, as if he’s actually offended.

So they sing, back and forth until both of them are breathless. When Thomas finds himself unable to sing any longer, he turns the radio back down to a respectable volume.

“So,” Thomas begins. He breathes heavily, like he’s just run a marathon. Singing can do that to someone, apparently. “How’s it feel to actually have fun for once?” Thomas glows with joy, having sung out all of his frustrations. Singing is often something he does to relieve stress, and he feels himself practically pulsing with mirth.

“Fun? With you?” Alexander tuts. He breathes just as heavily as Thomas, closing his eyes to relax. A smirk, not _completely_ unfriendly, creeps onto his face.  “Not a chance.”

Thomas shakes his head. “I swear your pride will be the death of us all.”

The digital clock on the old car’s display reads 4:23, bright and clear. It makes sense; they left New York City at around 12:00 pm, right after lunch.

“4:23.” Thomas taps the digital display. “Time to switch.”

Alexander groans, a low rumble from the back of his throat. “I don’t want to drive.”

“We agreed on four hours, Alexander. Do your share.” An exit approaches them rapidly, and Thomas quickly glances over his shoulder before exiting the freeway and pulling into another gas station parking lot.

“I didn’t even want to go on this damn trip in the first place,” Alexander complains, as if their little singing session had never happened. He crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat and staring straight ahead.

Thomas feels himself get unreasonably frustrated, and he exits the car, closing the door with a slam. He wastes no time in walking over to the passenger side and practically ripping Alex’s door open. “I swear, I will actually abandon you at this gas station.”

By the time they get to Pittsburg, Thomas’s stomach is wailing.

“Can we stop for food?” Thomas asks, though it’s more of a command. He crinkles the bag of Cheez-Its he’s holding in his hand, staring at it as if it might turn into a burger if he tries hard enough. “I can’t survive off of Cheez-Its alone.”

“Yeah,” Alexander complies, for once not putting up a fight. “How about, uh…” He pauses, eyeing the signs that adorn the side of the freeway. They’ve been driving down this same damn freeway for _at least_ six hours now. “Wendy’s?”

“Wendy’s?” Thomas scoffs. He turns to face Alexander, although he knows fully well that the other man is unable to turn and face him. _Wendy’s?_ Surely, Alexander is joking. “You can’t be serious. We’re going to Arby’s.”

Alexander barks out a humorless laugh, and takes the nearest exit off the freeway. “Arby’s.”

“Yes?” Thomas questions, unsure of the problem. “Are we gonna have a problem?”

Alexander parks in front of the nearest Wendy’s before answering Thomas’s question. “Arby’s,” Alexander pauses and turns to his right, poking an accusing finger at Thomas. “Is shit.”

Thomas stares at Alexander for a few lingering seconds before placing his hand on Alex’s pointed finger and pushing it down. “Fine, but only because I’m too mature to argue with you.”

Alexander takes this as a sign of defeat, and beams smugly. “Great. Let’s go.”

Thomas groans as the digital clock displays the numbers ‘2:00.’

“How much fucking longer until we’re in Chicago?” He laments, staring at the same freeway he’s been staring at for around 14 hours now. They’d entered Illinois about 30 minutes ago, yet it seemed like a lifetime.

Alexander offers only a quiet snore in return, and _of course, he’s asleep._ Of course, the only time Alexander actually sleeps is when Thomas actually needs something from him.

Not taking his eyes off the road, he shoves Alexander with his right hand, nudging the other man awake. “Ugh, wake up,” Thomas whines, his own eyes threatening to slide shut.

Alexander groans before stirring in his seat, coiling himself around his downy dark blue blanket. “What?” He replies groggily, raising his head up haphazardly. He’d fallen asleep a few hours ago, and Thomas envied him for being so relaxed, all curled up in a blanket.

“How much longer until we’re in… Chicago…” Thomas’s sentence trails off as he sees the bright lights of a city peek over the horizon. Not quite as beautiful as New York City, but it comes at a close second.

“Oh, thank god,” Alexander cries out happily, sitting up fully in his seat.

“I don’t know why you’re so happy, I’m the one who’s been doing all the driving,” Thomas grumbles. His hands shake slightly and his eyelids flutter every so often, fatigued from all the traveling they’re doing. He continues speaking, not waiting for a reply from Alexander. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“The… plan?” Alexander questions, too exhausted for any sort of conversation that requires thought. _But what’s new?_ Thomas chuckles at his own joke.

He chuckles, but his chuckling ceases when he realizes _they don’t have a plan._

“The– the sleeping plan? I really can’t drive for much longer.” Thomas fumbles over his own words.

How could they be so dumb? 14 hours together in a car, and they hadn’t even discussed sleeping arrangements? And to make matters even _better_ , neither of them know the area. Both natives of the east coast, this part of the country is basically foreign land.

While staring out the window hopelessly, Alexander formulates an idea. Not the best idea, hardly even a good idea. Thomas grimaces as he watches a metaphorical lightbulb appear over Alexander’s head.

“What?” Thomas asks quietly, as if he dare ask what’s going on in the other man’s mind.

“Take this exit,” Alexander commands, pointing to the road ahead of them.

“What?” Thomas repeats, his voice slightly louder now. “Alexander, I’m not–”

“Take this exit!” Alexander points at the exit more frantically, and Thomas feels as if he has no choice but to comply. “Hurry!”

Thomas barely pays attention to the cars around them, turning on his signal hastily and swerving over into the rightmost lane. Somewhere around him, a car horn blares, but he jerks himself into the exit before he can see who it’s coming from. The exhaustion truly is getting to him, and he feels as if the next time he blinks his eyes might not reopen.

“Well,” Thomas chimes, gently slowing down as he exits the freeway. “I took the exit.”

“Mm,” Alexander agrees lazily. He peers at his phone, squinting at the bright light it produces, and Thomas can tell that he’s following directions to somewhere. He can’t quite tell where. “Turn right here.”

Thomas listens to Alexander list off directions for a couple minutes, telling him to “turn right up there,” and “take a left here.” It’s almost calming until Thomas realizes exactly where they’re heading.

“And… we’re here.” Alexander places his hands on his hips, as if he’s proud of himself for listing off directions fed to him by Google maps. Thomas is beginning to think the exhaustion is affecting Alexander more than it is him.

“You _cannot_ be serious.” His mouth drops open as he gapes at the bright blue Wal-Mart sign. “You want us to sleep at _Wal_ –”

Thomas is silenced as Alexander presses an index finger to his plump lips. The action is oddly endearing, and Thomas might even be embarrassed, if not given the situation they’re in. _Yes, the exhaustion is definitely getting to him._ “It’s only for one night…”

Thomas pushes Alexander’s finger away from his mouth, his brows furrowing. “Yes, and this is okay because sleeping at some random Wal-Mart in _Chicago_ at two in the morning is definitely a great idea.”

“Shh,” Alexander hushes Thomas again and crosses his arms. “It’s just one night,” he repeats himself.

The parking lot is huge, illuminated only by a few security lights. Even in the dead of night, there are a few other cars scattered throughout in the parking lot of the 24-hour Wal-Mart. What would someone want at Wal-Mart at 2:00 a.m.? Or maybe the better question was, what _wouldn’t_ someone want at Wal-Mart at 2:00 a.m.? _Perhaps some poor soul is trapped in the same situation as me,_ Thomas thinks, snorting to himself.

“Well,” Thomas shuts off the car and rummages through the back seat, searching for his overnight bag. “Let’s go in.”

“What?” Alexander looks as if he could pass out at any given moment.

“I’m not going to bed without brushing my teeth, Alexander.”

Alex grumbles as he’s dragged out of the car, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder by Thomas. The ambient sounds of the city can be heard even from here, and Thomas finds himself slowing down to admire his surroundings. Even in a Wal-mart parking lot at 2 a.m., Thomas can appreciate his environment.

They walk into the deserted Wal-Mart, the automatic doors sliding open for them.

“I feel bad for the people who have to work here,” Thomas comments. “But I digress.”

It takes only a few moments to find the bathroom, and soon enough both men are stumbling in. The bathroom exceeds Thomas’s expectations, having not been very high in the first place. After all, you can’t expect much from a city Wal-Mart bathroom, but this one isn’t bad by any means.

There are four sinks lined up against the wall, all backed up by one long mirror. Thomas heaves his bag onto the counter, and watches as Alexander does the same. The smaller man seems significantly more awake now, eyes a little brighter than they were in the parking lot.

A silence falls over the both of them, the only sounds in the room being the ones of them brushing their teeth. They stand next to each other, taking up the two center sinks. Thomas stares at himself in the mirror, not quite impressed with his reflection. He looks worn out, his eyelids heavy and his hair mussed all around his head. Again, what’s new? He notices Alexander doing the same, seemingly scrutinizing his own appearance in the mirror.

On impulse, Thomas leans over and nudges Alexander playfully. Alexander shoves back, a little bit harsher than Thomas had done to him.

Thomas makes no move to counter and just chuckles, gazing sentimentally at both himself and Alexander in the mirror. What a silly situation they’ve gotten themselves into. What a silly situation they’ve been _forced_ into. And this was only the first night.

After going through an abridged version of his nightly routine, Thomas begins packing all his items back into his bag. Alexander does the same, stuffing all of his items carelessly into his duffel bag.

They leave the Wal-Mart without another word, ignoring the strange glances they get from the employees. And who are they to judge, really? They’re the ones stuck tending to a Wal-Mart at 2:30 in the morning.

Thomas leans back in the driver's seat, reclining the seat back as far as it’ll go. It isn’t very far, but it’ll have to do. He curls himself around his blanket, and rests his head carefully on the pillow he brought with for situations like this. It’s the middle of September, and the cold night air is beginning to make its way into the car. In this moment, he wishes he’d brought a sleeping bag, but sometimes that’s how it goes.

“I’m cold,” Alexander states from the backseat, echoing Thomas’s thoughts. Thomas glances back at him, and wishes he could be the one that got to sleep in the back seat. It looks much more comfortable that whatever hellish sleeping position Thomas is in right now, but Alexander beat him to it, and he, for once, isn’t in the mood to argue.

“Me too,” Thomas agrees, offering no solution. They lay in silence, the only sound being Alexander’s occasional shifting.

“I’m _cold,”_ Alexander whines a couple minutes later, not willing to be ignored. He begins to sit up in the backseat and leans on one elbow, staring at Thomas expectantly.

Expectantly. Thomas knows _exactly_ what Alexander wants him to do, yet his conscience wills him to stay in the front seat.

“Goodnight, Alexander,” are the last words that are spoken that night.

Thomas receives no answer.

Despite his raging fatigue, his mind races with the day’s events. An unpleasant day with an unpleasant start had turned into a somewhat pleasant day with a still unpleasant end.

Within a few minutes, he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so let me know what you think.
> 
> I'm not quite sure about this yet. Should I continue? Vote now on your phones!
> 
> Also, if you squint you can see a couple Heathers references. You don't even have to squint that hard, they're pretty obvious.
> 
> Seriously though let me know if this is good. If it is, I will continue it. I'm planning for 10 chapters, but we'll see how it goes.
> 
> Comments, criticism, and reviews are ALWAYS appreciated!! always


	2. The Second Greatest City in The World: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas prefers his own city over Chicago, but there’s something refreshing about the change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW 42 kudos already!! Thank you SO MUCH!!
> 
> this chapter was going to be so long that I had to cut it in half. I'm thinking this is going to be more than 10 chapters. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry this took a little bit to come out! I've been busy lately but i promise the next chapter will be up sooner. for now, enjoy!

Something uncomfortable is digging into Thomas’s side, prompting him to wake up.

“What the hell?” he mutters to himself, twisting around.

Alexander’s leg is sticking out from the backseat, his foot digging straight into Thomas’s kidney. The sleeping position he’s assumed looks absolutely horrendous, a disastrous tangle of limbs and blankets. His lower half hangs off the seat, feet latching into the front seat and pointing directly in Thomas’s direction, while his arms clutch a pillow. Slowly but surely, his pillow is being soaked by drool coming out of his open mouth.

Alexander Hamilton is _not_ a pretty sleeper.

“For Christ’s sake.” Thomas grabs Alexander’s ankle and shoves it away from him, making the smaller man’s position even more awkward. Despite this, he shows no sign of waking up.

A faint line of sunlight, similar to the corona around the sun during an eclipse, illuminates the isolated parking lot.

_Parking lot?_

Thomas almost forgets where he is. At 7:32 in the morning, the Wal-Mart parking lot is still deserted. At 2:00 a.m., the temperature was less than comfortable. Thomas recalls how cold he’d been last night, not used to sleeping in a room less than 70 degrees. Now, earlier in the morning, a warmer, much more pleasant temperature graces the city.

The unrelenting quietness of the parking lot brings Thomas back to reality, back to this whole ordeal. Memories resurface, and he thinks about what he did wrong in life to bring him to this point. Road trip, 7-Eleven, Wendy’s, Wal-Mart. Fascinating. And now, Chicago.

Alexander stirs, the uncomfortable position finally starting to reach him. He twists his body back into a normal position, and sits up while Thomas stares at him. His eyes drift to his damp pillow, a look of disgust forming on his face as he yanks his hands away from it.

“Sleep well?” Thomas asks, watching as Alex slowly adjusts himself to his surroundings.

“Since when do you care?” Alex snorts. He unravels himself from his blanket, slowly stretching out his limbs.

Thomas supplies no answer, simply shaking his head and turning back to the front seat. He rests his hands delicately on the steering wheel, tapping his fingers over the old leather.

He’s not quite sure where to go from here.

There are probably plenty of places to go sightseeing in Chicago, right? It _is_ the third largest city in the country, the first being their beloved home, New York City.

The city could barely be seen over the horizon, the bright lights of the city not being drowned out by the emerging sunlight. Thomas runs his eyes over the outlines of the buildings, pondering potential places to go. Maybe a museum? Who didn’t like a good museum every now and then. Chicago is a large city, he’s sure there’s at least _one_ good museum to visit.

If he’s quiet, stops his breathing for a moment, he can hear the bustle of the city. In the far distance, car horns can be heard. They’re not too far from the freeway, the yellow brick road of Illinois. Chicago is the Emerald City.

It’s beautiful, really. They say New York City is the city that never sleeps, yet Thomas thinks he could say the same of Chicago. Of course, he prefers his own city over Chicago, but there’s something refreshing about the change. He’s never found himself with enough time to travel, instead taking his wanderlust to the streets of New York. There seems to be something new around every corner, it never does get old. Something new for every day of the week.

Something new for every day of the week, yet nothing can quite compare to the feeling of going somewhere entirely new. Always new surroundings to be explored, new people, new eateries.

New experiences.

Sometimes even Thomas is amazed at how thoughtful he is.

It’s Alexander who rips him out of his stupor, his voice breaking through to peaceful silence.

“I’m hungry as fuck,” he states abruptly.

“How eloquent,” Thomas drawls, rolling his eyes. Leave it to Alexander to ruin the moment. Well, the couple minutes of silence was nice while it lasted. However, all good things must come to an end.

The peaceful atmosphere is disrupted even further as Alexander clambers into the passenger seat. He squirms through the opening in between the front and passenger seat, smacking Thomas in the face in the process.

“Ow!” Thomas exclaims, clutching his cheek. “You could have just as easily opened the door and gotten into the seat like a normal human being.” His hand grazes over his face, which stings slightly.

“I like to do things the hard way, Thomas,” Alexander says, no real emotion in his voice. As he’s winding his legs into the seat, his left foot smacks Thomas rather harshly in the same spot his hand hit. Whether it was on purpose or not, Thomas may never know.

 _“Ow!”_ he yelps again, louder this time. “Stop that! Get your bare feet away from my face!” He runs a couple fingers over his cheekbone, wincing slightly as the pain blossoms throughout his face.

Alexander snickers and pokes his foot closer to Thomas, who swats it away like an insect.

“You’re so gross,” Thomas retorts, shoving Alexander’s foot away with both his hands.

“Hey, my feet are clean,” Alexander pouts, pulling himself into a normal sitting position. Or at least, somewhat normal. His legs are curled beside him, and he leans against his window, facing Thomas.

“I’m not quite sure I trust you on that. And,” Thomas motions toward the steering wheel, glancing between it and Alexander. “It’s your turn to drive.”

Alexander opens his mouth and raises a finger as if he’s going to argue, but Thomas cuts him off before he has the chance.

“No buts,” he says quickly, holding up a finger to mirror Alexander. “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”

Alexander grumbles, what a surprise, and climbs out of the passenger seat. Thomas eagerly switches places with him, sighing happily as the weight of being the driver his taken off his shoulders. It’s not that big of a victory, as it’s not that long until they get into the actual city, but Thomas takes what he can get.

“So, I’m thinking McDonald’s?” he says nonchalantly, kicking his feet onto the dashboard. He wore his shoes all night, not bothering to take them off after they got out of Wal-Mart and into their car. Alex’s car, but _their_ car for the time being. Come to think of it, neither of them had changed out of yesterday’s clothes. It was a fleeting thought among an entire ocean of ideas. The notion must have slipped their minds amongst the chaos of sleeping in a Wal-Mart parking lot.

“Classy,” Alexander snorts. “I’m down. Don’t get used to it, though.”

Thomas didn’t expect Alexander to actually agree with him.

“Wonderful. Let’s go.” He folds his arms behind his head, watching as Alexander ignites the car and pulls back onto the road. “I’m sure there’s one not too far from here. It’s Chicago, after all,” Thomas says as if he actually knows crap about Chicago. Either way, it seems like a safe assumption. _Isn’t there a McDonald’s around just about every street corner in the U.S., anyway?_

Sometimes Thomas thinks he’s too clever for his own good. Most would disagree.

Sometimes Alexander wonders why Thomas agrees to go to these shabby city fast food eateries, some barely surpassing what is considered “safe” and “healthy.” Thomas has more than enough money to buy the entire restaurant, let alone anything on the menu, several times over. And then several more times. Despite this, he agrees without a single complaint.

And yet, Thomas considers himself to be a fairly grounded person. Despite what most must think, including Alexander, he is not a materialistic man. He keeps telling himself this, anyway. Like if he repeats it enough times it might come true. Just because he has the money doesn’t mean he has to spend it, right? Is his wealth a defining point? His whole life doesn’t revolve around his bank account. He is a person, one with a shining personality, or at least he likes to think so. He is a person with more things than just money to offer. Yes, he can enjoy the finer things in life, but he can just as easily enjoy the simpler things.

Some people can’t seem to wrap their heads around that.

A thought like that seems far too heavy for the situation Thomas is in, so he lets it go. He returns his attention to the task at hand, and that task is getting to a McDonalds.

He pulls his phone out of the cup holder. It’s been far too long since he last checked it. That’s okay, though, because this is a road trip and spending your whole trip on your phone does nobody any good.

He allows himself to scroll through his emails for a little bit, finding nothing of interest. Nothing new is going on in the world, his Twitter feed proves so. He doesn’t hear when Alexander tries to speak to him.

“Hey,” Alex signals for his attention, waving his hand in front of Thomas’s face. “Answer me.”

“Wha–?” Thomas replies smartly. He watches Alexander’s hand plainly, his eyes following every motion it makes.

“I said, drive through or do you want to go inside?”

“Oh,” Thomas mutters, clicking off his phone and placing it back in the cup holder. “Let’s just go in.”

Alexander doesn’t respond but Thomas knows he’s been acknowledged. He sits back and stares at the road ahead of them, watching the dashed yellow lines disappear beneath the hood of the vehicle. His eyelids droop slightly, having not gotten a sufficient amount of sleep last night. The driver's seat was horribly uncomfortable, and Thomas grimaces as he remembers tossing and turning in the early hours of the morning. Meanwhile, Alexander had been living it up in the backseat, all swaddled in blankets. He’d make sure they got a hotel tonight, though. Sleeping in a parking lot was just a one-time deal.

He doesn’t feel it in him to make any conversation, so he doesn’t. What is there to say, anyway? Yesterday, he’d been much more chipper. Turns out, sleeping for four hours in a car seat can kind of take a toll on someone.

Lulled to sleep by the constant movement of the car, Thomas dozes off. Surely, Alexander can find a McDonald’s without his help.

“We’re here,” Alexander announces, bringing Thomas out of his slumber.

Thomas mutters something about beauty sleep before Alexander smacks his shoulder.

“Get up, you oaf,” Alex says, slapping Thomas a couple more times for good measure.

“Stop,” Thomas groans lazily, shielding himself from Alexander’s forceful hands. “I’m up.”

Both men exit the car, walking into the uninhabited McDonald’s. No one is at the counter, and for a moment Thomas questions if anyone actually works here. It feels more like a trap than a restaurant.

He walks up to the counter, placing his open palm down on it. It lands in something sticky, and he pulls it away in disgust, faster than what appears to be the speed of light. Alexander chuckles as he watches Thomas rub his palm frantically on his jeans.

“I shouldn’t have expected any less,” Thomas mutters, eyeing his now sticky palm. He speaks again, this time directed towards anyone who might be back in the kitchen, “Anyone work here?”

Alexander smacks Thomas’s bicep, staring up at him disapprovingly. “Don’t be rude.”

Thomas snorts. “Are you really one to be lecturing _me_ on rudeness?” He places both his palms, sticky and non-sticky alike, on his hips, and turns to face Alexander. He leans against the counter, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, actually, I am–” Alexander pokes his index finger in what he hopes is a menacing manner towards Thomas before the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts him. A girl, a teenager by the looks of it, now stands behind the counter.

“I didn’t know McDonald’s employees had the ability to materialize out of thin air,” Thomas whispers to Alex, breaking away the tension that was previously harbored between them.

“Well, you learn something new every day,” Alexander quips, turning to face the girl behind the counter. “Hi.”

It’s almost comical how easily they can get into arguments. Even at work, _especially_ at work, they have petty little arguments about unimportant subjects. A couple good examples as of recent are “Why did you drink the last of the coffee and not make more?” and “Who ate my fruit yogurt that I put in the fridge?” (It wasn’t even Alexander, yet Thomas still blamed him for it.) They’ve become slightly famous around their workplace for this reason, or rather, infamous. Their coworkers groan when they see them fighting with each other, wondering what they could _possibly_ be arguing about now. It seems that by now they could have covered every single subject to ever exist, in the whole world. Something as small as being stuck in the same elevator for a few moments can spark an argument between them. It never does seem to stop.

“What can I get you?” the cashier asks, rather unimpressed. She stares at the two men expectantly, tapping her fingers on the counter. She recoils slightly when her hand touches the same sticky spot that Thomas’s hand touched.

Alexander shoves his hands into his pockets as his eyes scan lazily over the menu. “I’ll have the sausage biscuit.”

 _That sounds disgusting,_ are the first words to come into Thomas’s mind upon hearing “sausage biscuit.”

“I’ll have a smoothie,” Thomas says decidedly, sliding $10 out of his wallet. “Strawberry banana.”

After Thomas pays for their order, to which Alexander does not complain, they hover around the counter while waiting for their number to get called.

“Why’d you only order a smoothie? Aren’t you hungry?” Alexander asks, though he doesn’t actually care for an answer.

“I can’t–” Thomas hesitates, flicking his gaze back towards the electronic menu, then back to Alex. “I can’t see the menu.”

“What?” Alexander is genuinely curious this time. His eyebrows furrow as he looks up at Thomas.

“I’m not wearing my contacts, you idiot.” Thomas turns back to Alexander and slides his hands into his pockets.

Alexander ignores the insult that was just thrown at him, knowing there’s no real bite behind Thomas’s words. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says dully. He turns away from Alexander, instead staring at the small flatscreen TV that displays the order numbers being made. Not that he can see what they say.

“Well, I could have read it for you,” Alexander responds, carrying the conversation.

“It’s fine, I’m not that hungry, anyway.”

“I mean, if you want, you can have some of my sausage biscuit–”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Thomas holds up a hand in reply. “But thanks anyway.” To Thomas, the idea of sharing a “sausage biscuit” with Alexander does not seem particularly appealing right now.

“373?” A voice announces their order number and an older woman that Thomas didn’t see before hands them their food.

“Thank you.” Thomas thanks her briefly before taking their food and finding a booth for them.

 

Thomas watches pointedly as Alexander climbs into the passenger seat.

“It’s still your turn to drive,” he says, folding his arms across his chest.

“Damn, thought you wouldn’t notice.” Alexander grins and exits the car compliantly, much to Thomas’s surprise.

 _That was easy,_ Thomas thinks to himself. He replaces Alexander in the passenger seat and begins tapping away at his phone, searching for possible destinations. “So,” he begins. “I’m thinking we go to Millennium park first, and then–”

“Shouldn’t we get a hotel room first? So we’re not lugging around all out shit?” Alexander suggests from the driver's seat, and while he starts the car, Thomas weighs their options. “I know sleeping in the Wal-Mart parking lot was a _brilliant_ idea and all, but I’m not doing that again.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Thomas muses. There’s no way Alexander actually thought sleeping in that parking lot was a good idea, much less a _brilliant_ one. “But that’s actually a good idea. Uh, I’m sure we can find a nice one around here. On me.”

“If you insist,” Alexander shrugs. He pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the road, heading straight into the city. “After sleeping in the parking lot we deserve a nice room.”

 _At least Alexander is being civil about this whole ordeal,_ Thomas thinks. He’s being oddly compliant, and Thomas hasn’t heard him complain about the trip since yesterday.

Thomas voices his thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve heard you go this long without complaining,” he teases.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you go this long without being a douchebag, and it’s only been, like, 20 minutes,” Alexander shoots back. The tone of his voice is threatening, but his face says otherwise. If Thomas squints, he can _almost_ see the hint of a smile on Alex’s face.

_Impressive._

If Alexander keeps this “good attitude,” maybe Thomas can really enjoy this trip. The whole scene is oddly domestic, and he can’t help but feel slightly satisfied at the change of mood. If Alexander can hold off from any snarky comments for a while, this trip might have been worth it. Maybe. He’s not saying he  _likes_ Alexander or anything like that, but this… this is tolerable.

“It shouldn’t be too long until we’re in the city,” Alexander comments, staring straight ahead. He has both hands on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the freeway. The end of the freeway is approaching, an intersection coming their way.

Thomas nods, and sinks back in his seat, tearing his eyes from his phone for a moment. Chicago really is a sight to see. The rest of the city is beginning to wake up, and Thomas wonders what exactly is going on inside of each of these apartment buildings. Each apartment with different people, each person with a different story to tell. Thomas thinks it’s fascinating.

“So,” Thomas says, eyes returning to his phone. “After we find a hotel, which shouldn’t take long, I’m thinking we go to Millennium Park…” he trails off, looking at Alexander’s face for an answer.

“Yeah,” Alexander agrees, not really having any ideas of his own. “Yeah, that sounds fun, I guess.”

“Mm,” Thomas hums in agreement, holding his phone to his chest.

About 10 minutes later, they’ve found themselves in front of one of the nicest hotels in Chicago.

“The Langham,” Thomas reads off the golden letters displayed above the hotel’s front doors.

If they’re gonna be in Chicago, might as well indulge themselves.

To Alexander, the hotel looks awfully businessy. Do they even let tourists in here? The building is so large that Alexander feels as if it could tip over at any moment. He has no guess as to how many stories it has, though it has to be somewhere in the 50s.

“Are you sure–” Alexander begins his sentence at the same time Thomas does.

“Let’s go in,” Thomas says, barely able to contain his excitement. To him, the building looks exquisite.

They step in together, and Alexander offers no further objection. He can practically smell all the money that was stuffed into their giant lobby. It’s very large, with white marble floors, and there is a man in a suit standing behind the reception desk ahead of them.

“Gentlemen,” the man nods at them as they approach the front desk. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Actually,” Thomas says smoothly, “We don’t, but I was thinking maybe you could hook me up. Just one night, please.” He takes his wallet out of his pocket and slides $100 towards the receptionist.

The man behind the desk chuckles and accepts Thomas’s bribe. “I hope a suite on floor 11 is good enough for you two?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas waves his credit card around in the air, not paying much attention to the other man’s words. “I can pay now.”

“Wonderful. Check out is at noon. Enjoy your stay.” The receptionist hands them their room key and waves them off.

While all this is happening, Alexander simply stares incredulously at Thomas.

As they walk towards the elevators with their suitcases and bags, Alexander nudges Thomas. It’s more of a shove than a nudge, but Thomas barely budges. “Bribery?” Alexander hisses. “Are you serious?”

“In my defense, I didn’t actually think that was going to work,” Thomas defends himself. “Besides, it’s a bit too late to object now, don’t you think?”

Alexander would have been angry if not for the extravagant hotel they’d managed to land themselves a room in. Even if they had gotten their way through bribery, he’s going to at least enjoy their stay. He wasn’t about to _thank_ Thomas for it, but he is kind of glad that things turned out this way.

As soon as they load themselves inside the elevator, Thomas stands up his two suitcases, each a shade of purple. One of them is a dark, calming purple, while the other is a blinding magenta color. He stares at them with a hand on his chin, as if he’s just now remembering if he packed everything he needs.

“I still don’t understand why you had to bring your entire wardrobe,” Alexander says, eyeing the two large suitcases. He stares at his own plaid suitcase, frowning slightly at how tiny it looks compared to Thomas’s.

“Three weeks, Alexander. We’re scheduled to be gone for nearly three weeks. Of course, it’s not like anyone put any planning into this in the first place,” Thomas snorts. It’s true. One moment Washington is explaining to them this new “team bonding” experience, and the next thing they know, they’re being shoved away cross-country. Crazy how these things happen. “And,” he adds. “If we’re going to travel across the country, I’m going to look good.”

Alexander rolls his eyes. He’d only brought enough clothes for about one week, but washing machines do exist.

The elevator dings, signaling their arrival to the 11th floor.

“Okay, room 1113, let’s see…” Thomas’s eyes follow the numbers plated on the doors as they walk through the hallway, looking for their room.

“Here it is,” Alexander shoves his thumb to the left once they reach the end of the hallway. And there it is, room 1113, in all it’s glory.

“Ooh,” Thomas clicks his tongue and turns to face the room, placing a hand on his hip. “A corner room. Spicy.”

Alexander shakes his head as he slides the key through the slot on the door. It clicks, allowing them to enter.

“Oh my god,” Alexander breathes, stepping into the room before Thomas. He blocks the doorway, and Thomas tries hopelessly to peer past the man in front of him.

“What? What is it?” He asks, dodging Alexander’s suitcase to stand behind him.

“Thomas, this room is amazing,” Alexander says wistfully and steps further into the room. Thomas follows him, craning his neck in all directions to take in their surroundings.

 _Since when does he call me “Thomas?”_ he thinks, before turning his attention over to the hotel room.

Alexander is right. It really is amazing. The front door leads into a hallway, and a _very_ large bathroom is on the right. Further down the hallway is a large suite, decorated with a very modern touch. The walls are a sleek white and the floor is hardwood, and a large flatscreen TV takes up a good portion of the wall. There’s a lavish black sofa accompanied by a white armchair on top of a fur rug, and not to mention, there’s an _amazing_ view. They’re treated with a lovely view of downtown Chicago, and everything seems perfect until–

“There’s only one bed,” Alexander deadpans, pointing at the plush king-sized bed pushed against the wall.

"What?” Thomas breathes, staring at the bed. It does look awfully inviting right about now. "One bed? He must have thought…" Feeling it unnecessary for him to complete his sentence, he lets his words hang unfinished in the air. 

Alexander turns around and stares at Thomas, his lips pursed. “Let’s ask for a different room.”

“I already paid, remember?” Thomas flexes his fingers over one of his suitcase handles, the other flying up to tangle into his hair. 

“Maybe it’s a pull out couch?” Alex bargains, dropping his suitcase and approaching the large black sofa. He lifts the cushions up, then drops them and turns back to Thomas.

It’s not a pull out couch. A couch is a couch, nonetheless.

“Listen,” Thomas says, dragging his suitcases out past Alexander into the open space. He surveys the room, slowly rotating 180 degrees before he faces Alexander. “We can figure out sleeping arrangements later.” He rests his suitcases on the floor and takes a seat on the bed. Thomas _almost_ groans at how nice it feels to be on a real bed again. Almost.

Placing his hands in his lap, he stares down at them as he pats his thighs a couple times. Alexander has been staring at him this whole time, and finally, Thomas decides to look up at him. “For now, we have a city to explore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is kinda shit, and I am so sorry. I am not satisfied with this, like, at all 
> 
> I promise the next one will be better, I had to split chicago in two because it's going to be so long. also I wrote something about Thomas ordering mcnuggets but they didnt have any available because its like 8am, and then he gets mad at the cashier but it all seemed stupid as fuck so I deleted it
> 
> also also, I only proofread this like twice, and not that thoroughly, so if there are any grammar mistakes and such please tell me! i wrote this in a few different sittings too, so also let me know if there are consistency errors
> 
> thank you for reading! and thank you SO MUCH to everyone who commented on chapter one!!
> 
> as always, comments and reviews are VERY appreciated!


	3. The Second Greatest City in The World: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas briefly wonders if he's going to make it out of this trip alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all:
> 
> I am so sorry. I haven't updated this in a month and I felt super guilty about it the whole time, I was just being super lazy. I finally got my shit together though, and I finished the chapter! 
> 
> I PROMISE the next chapter won't take so long!!! Expect it next week. I'll have a bit more motivation to do stuff, since I'm in school now. It started today.
> 
> Also I'm not super happy with this chapter, but hopefully you guys like it... I gave it what I could. I'll write a better one next week hopefully!

“Alexander, you cannot be serious.”

Thomas hesitantly follows Alexander as they parade through the streets of downtown Chicago.

“Oh, come on. You can’t expect us to be in Chicago and not get rolled ice cream!” Alexander says, practically dragging Thomas by the arm.

“You can get rolled ice cream literally anywhere in New York,” Thomas grumbles.

“Okay, but this is Chicagoan rolled ice cream. You can’t get that in New York.” Alexander glances backward at Thomas, accidentally bumping into someone in the process. “Watch it,” he mumbles, turning his attention back to the sidewalk in front of them.

“You don’t make any sense.” Thomas rolls his eyes and lets himself be led through the clouds of people scattered on the sidewalks.

 

  
“Okay, I’m gonna have a… um…” Alexander squints at the menu, trying to decide which flavor ice cream he’s going to get.

Thomas feels like he’s been standing there for about 1,000 years, with how long Alexander is taking. He feels inclined to check a mirror and see if his hair has gone gray. “I’ll have strawberry,” he pipes up from behind Alexander.

“Oh, me too.” Alexander leans back, staring at the employing behind the counter with a confident look. “Wait, no,” Thomas rolls his eyes. “Pineapple-mango.” He hesitates. “Wait.”

Thomas wants to slam his head against the counter.

“Yeah, no, I’ll have strawberry.” Alexander places his hands on his hips, satisfied with his order.

“12.67,” the employee states.

Before Alexander has the chance to change his mind again, Thomas hands the cashier a ten and a five.

Alex holds up a finger, “Wait, I think I want–”

“No,” Thomas deadpans, accepting his change from the cashier.

“Two strawberries?” a woman calls, placing two dishes of strawberry rolled ice cream on the counter.

“That’s us,” Thomas says, grabbing them both and handing one off to Alexander. “Thank you.”

“Hey, wait,” Alexander looks between his and Thomas’s ice cream, his eyes flicking back and forth. “Yours has more than mine…” he reaches out towards Thomas’s, who yanks his hand back as quickly as possible.

“I paid, you’re taking what you get,” Thomas narrows his eyes at Alexander, bringing the spoon up to his lips mockingly.

Alexander grumbles but makes no move to steal Thomas’s ice cream again.

“So,” Thomas begins as they walk out of the shop. A little bell hanging from the doorframe jingles, signaling their departure. “I’m thinking we catch a cab and head down towards Millennium Park.”

“Whatever you say,” Alexander says absentmindedly, twirling his plastic spoon around in his hands.

Thomas waves his left arm in the air, which brings the taxi surfing down the road to a halt. It pulls up beside the two men, the driver looking at them expectantly.

“Millennium Park,” Thomas says, scooping more ice cream into his mouth and climbing into the cab. Alexander slides into the backseat alongside him.

For twenty minutes, the only noise in the cab is the unmistakable sound of eating ice cream and the awkward silence that follows. When the cab driver arrives at their location, Thomas insists on paying the fare, but they agree to split it after a couple minutes of arguing.

“I’ll make it free if you two just stop arguing and get out,” the driver had said.

In the center of Millennium Park stands a giant bean-shaped mirrored sculpture, affectionately called “The Bean.”

“I guess it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why they called it that,” Thomas muses, placing a hand on his chin. He stands in front of the reflective sculpture and shakes his head, watching his curls bounce back and forth. “This weather is not doing kind things to my hair. I look like a rat.”

Meanwhile, Alexander stands next to him, trying to take a good picture with his phone camera.

“That’s an insult to rats,” he quips. He strikes a pose and snaps the picture, then shakes his head and deletes it. He does this a second time, and again.

“What are you doing?” Thomas asks, brows furrowing.

“Tryin’ to get a good picture for Instagram, duh.” Alexander juts his hip out and takes another picture, to which Thomas rolls his eyes at.

“Give me that.” he snatches the phone out of Alexander’s hands, then takes a couple pictures of their reflection. “Okay, turn around.” Thomas backs up a couple feet and stands in front of Alexander.

Alexander quirks his eyebrows and smiles a little, and says, “Huh?”

“Perfect,” Thomas scrolls through the photos he took on Alex’s phone, admiring his photography skills. “That was a damn good candid. You can thank me for the followers you’re going to be getting.”

Alexander takes his phone back from Thomas, and scrolls through the pictures. Thomas was right. Alex looks pretty cute in the picture if he says so himself. It displays him, eyebrows raised and a quirky smile on his face, sporting his navy blue Columbia crew neck with a light blue button up shirt underneath.

“Huh,” Alex repeats. “Thanks.”

“Well, now you have to get a picture of me.” Thomas swipes his phone into camera mode and hands it to Alexander, posing in front of the metallic sculpture.

He sticks his tongue out for a photo, holds up a peace sign for another, and crosses his arms for the last.

“Damn,” Thomas says, scrolling through the photos Alex took of him. “I look good.”

Alexander rolls his eyes.

But Thomas does look good, Alexander thinks. His outfit is nothing special, simply a dark purple t-shirt paired with black skinny jeans with brown boots.

His outfit is nothing special, but Alex must admit, he makes it work.

“It’s cold out,” Thomas states, just noticing the cool September air.

“That sucks,” Alexander teases, pulling his sweater sleeves over his hands.

 

  
“Seriously? A nightclub? What are you, 12?” Thomas places a hand on his hips and cocks his head, staring incredulously at the shorter man standing before him.

They had gotten a quick bite to eat at a local restaurant, and were now standing in front of said restaurant, deciding on what to do for the rest of the day.

“First of all, yes, seriously. Second of all, that doesn’t even make sense.” Alexander crosses his arms and stares back at Thomas.

After a few hesitant seconds, Thomas finally agrees. “Fine, but we’re going back to the hotel so I can shower, first. I feel disgusting.” He hasn’t been to a nightclub in quite a while now, anyway. Does that mean he’s getting old? Thomas feels the sudden urge to check for gray hairs.

“You look the part, too,” Alex teases, a faux sweet smile on his face.

“Rude,” Thomas pouts, rolling his eyes, though he knows there’s no true menace behind Alexander’s words. “Let’s go back.”

 

  
“My god, the ocean called, they’re running out of water.” Alexander raps on their hotel room bathroom’s door, just about ready to plead Thomas to get out.

“What?” Thomas calls back, Alexander’s voice being drowned out by the sounds of water hitting the floor.

“I said, the ocean called, they’re running out of– oh, forget it.” Alexander slumps against the bathroom door, clutching a fluffy hotel towel in his right hand.

“Shut up,” Thomas replies, his voice barely audible over the shower. He didn’t need Alex to finish his sentence for him to put the pieces together. “I’ve only been in here for 20 minutes!”

“Only? God, what do you even do for that long?” Alexander contemplates his question, wondering if he really wants to know.

The only reply Alexander receives is the sound, or lack thereof, of the shower stopping.

“Finally,” Alexander says, still leaning against the door. Which is a mistake on his part, really.

The bathroom door flies open, and Alexander goes crashing onto the wet floor.

“What the–” Thomas nearly goes down with him, but thanks the Lord for his quick reflexes. He steps to the left just as Alexander slams down next to him.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” Thomas says, staring down at him. He wears nothing but a white hotel towel wrapped around his waist, and Alexander scrambles away as quick as he can to avoid accidentally peeking up the man’s towel.

Alexander simply grumbles in response, snatching up his now slightly damp towel and shoving Thomas out of the bathroom.

 

  
After roughly four hours of watching HGTV on the hotel living room couch, Alexander finally breaks the silence.

“Can we do something else?” he asks, shifting to better face Thomas.

“But,” Thomas interjects, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. “I need to see which house they choose…”

Alex rolls his eyes and reaches for the TV remote in Thomas’s lap, only for his hand to be slapped away. “We have to finish this,” he argues, drawing the remote farther away from Alex.

“You’re insufferable,” Alexander comments, but gives up on trying to turn off the TV. Thomas to House Hunters is a moth to light.

“You’re short,” Thomas shoots back, and Alexander briefly wonders what that has to do with the conversation.

“I’m not–”

“Yes, you are,” Thomas concludes, turning to face Alexander.

They look at each other for a couple moments, each locked in an unspoken staring contest.

Thomas is the first to tear his eyes away, and smiles joyfully when he watches the couple pick house number two. “I knew they’d pick that.”

Alexander snatches the remote before the next episode of House Hunters has a chance to play. “Let’s do something,” he declares, slamming the remote down on the table.

Never breaking eye contact, Thomas slowly leans over and reaches for the remote, but is too slow, as Alexander swats it off the table.

“Let’s go somewhere…” Alexander trails off, glancing at Thomas, then around the room, then back at Thomas.

“Okay,” Thomas agrees, sitting up.

 

  
After a slightly successful shopping trip and a quality dinner at the mall’s food court, 7:30 rolls around.

Alexander had decided he was going to take the opportunity to buy some clothes to show off at the club, and for once, Thomas thought one of Alexander’s ideas was not too shabby.

Alexander emerged from the mall with a new pair of ripped skinny jeans, of which he has several lookalike pairs at home. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get another pair, though. He pairs that with a purple button up that he happened to bring along, and he can’t help but admire himself in the mirror.

“Hey,” Thomas says, as Alexander steps out of the bathroom. “I was going to wear purple.”

“Too bad.” Alexander clicks his tongue. “I am not matching with you.”

Thomas pulls out an identical purple button up shirt from one of his suitcases, and holds it against his chest. “I don’t know, Alex,” he teases. “I think we could pull it off.”

“No. I look better in this shirt, and my name is Alexander,” he says, tugging the shirt out of Thomas’s hands and throwing it onto the bed.

“Fine, Alexander,” he replies, and Alex can practically hear him rolling his eyes. He takes his entire suitcase, the darker purple one, and disappears into the bathroom with it.

Thomas emerges from the bathroom wearing light skinny jeans and a tank top with the American flag printed on it.

“Seriously?” Alexander asks rhetorically. He resists the urge to shove Thomas back into the bathroom and force him to change his clothes. “I know we work for the law, but do you really have to–”

“Oh, hush up, Alexander.” Thomas pushes Alexander out of the doorway with his right hand, and sighs as he sits down on the plush hotel bed.

He watches intently as Alexander kneels down and fishes through his suitcase for something, throwing several clothing items around him in the process.

“Mascara?” Thomas asks, staring incredulously at the little green tube that Alex pulls out of his suitcase. “You wear–”

“For special occasions…” Alexander cuts him off, but his tone turns more defensive. “I don’t need your criticism.”

_Oh_ , Thomas thinks, though that’s not what he meant. “I’m not–” He scrambles for words, “Maybe… could you let me use some?”

“You wear makeup?” Alex asks, cocking an eyebrow. He takes a step closer to Thomas, plastic green tube in hand.

“No,” Thomas replies, turning his head to the side. “But there’s a first time for everything.” It’s always seemed like an interesting idea to Thomas, anyway.

Alexander unscrews the cap and stands in front of Thomas, assessing his canvas. “Okay, hold still,” he breathes carefully, as the slightest uncalculated movement could send a wave of black smears over Thomas’s eyelid.

Thomas leans back subconsciously as Alex leans forward, slowing inching farther away from the man.

“Stop moving,” Alexander commands, placing his left hand on the back of Thomas’s head.

All the while, thoughts like _Why did I do this?_ and _Does he realize his knee is in my crotch?_ soar through Thomas’s head. “Don’t poke my eye,” he says, flinching slightly. “Don’t poke my–”

“Shut up,” Alexander orders, squinting his eyes and carefully finishing the job. He steps back, removing his knee from Thomas’s crotch in the process, and admires his handiwork. “Pretty.”

“Was that a compliment?” Thomas exaggerates a gasp, teasing the smaller man. “Thanks, Hamilton, but I already knew that.”

“Your ego is almost as big as your hair,” Alex shoots back, nodding his head towards the mass of curls shrouding Thomas’s head.

“Your temper is almost as short as your legs,” Thomas replies cleverly, a smirk playing over his features.

Thomas laughs heartily as Alexander grumbles in defeat.

 

  
After a couple episodes of Love It or List It, they agree to head over to the club.

The club, called the Loophole (“What the hell does that even mean?” Thomas had said,) opens at 8:00, and Alexander and Thomas get there roughly around 9:00. The dance floor is already flooded with people, eager partygoers who couldn’t wait until 10:00 to go to the club. Among those people is Alexander, already lost in the crowd.

Thomas pushes past several people in search for the shorter man, until he finally finds him dancing among a group of strangers. “Hey,” he shouts, his voice barely audible over the pounding music. “Let’s get some drinks.” Though, by the way Alex is dancing, Thomas can tell he’s already had a few. They hadn’t even been there for half an hour.

“Okay,” Alexander shouts back, and Thomas grabs onto his arm and leads him through the crowd towards the bar.

Thomas motions for the bartender to get him two shots of tequila as he drags Alex onto the barstool next to him.

“So,” Alexander begins. “Having fun?” He throws back the shot of tequila, face making an odd expression as the alcohol slides down his throat.

_No,_ Thomas is tempted to say, _you left me not two seconds after we got in here._  Instead he says nothing, simply shrugging. The club is much more fun with your friends, and though Thomas could normally never call Alexander a friend, he does think they might be getting somewhere. He’s not sure where, but… somewhere.

They had only left for this trip yesterday, yet so much had already happened. The events of the past 24 hours felt more suited to be spread out throughout a week, but there was nothing Thomas could do about that. Time was simply going by too quickly, he could barely recall what he had done earlier that day. And to think, he still has weeks left of this. It almost doesn’t seem real.

Alexander slams the shot glass down on the bar after his fourth shot, and waits for Thomas to down his second shot of tequila before striking up an offering.

“Dance with me,” he says, hopping off of his barstool and staring at the taller man.

“What?” Thomas says, not quite sure he heard Alexander correctly over the loud music.

“I said,” Alexander holds out his hand, as if what he’s saying isn’t strange at all. “Dance with me.”

Thomas nods slowly, sliding off his barstool, but not before leaving a $50 bill on the counter for the drinks. He grabs Alexander’s outstretched hand, who leads them to the center of the dance floor. Alex makes no hesitations to start swaying to the beat, and Thomas awkwardly mirrors his movements. Normally he’d consider himself an okay dancer, but the whole situation just seemed out of place.

It isn’t long before Alexander is stepping closer, and closer, and closer to Thomas, and it becomes more evident how drunk the shorter man is. Thomas isn’t surprised he’s a lightweight, considering his height.

He feels his cheeks flare up as Alexander wraps his arms around his neck, tugging them closer together.

“Alexander–” Thomas begins, not quite sure what he’s supposed to do.

“Shh,” Alexander presses a finger to his lips and steps closer, almost pressing their chests together. “Don’t talk.”

“You’re drunk,” Thomas says offhandedly, more to himself than to Alexander.

“Yeah. So what?” He grabs Thomas’s hands and places them on his hips, swerving his hips to the rhythm. He returns his arms around Thomas’s neck before saying, “I said don’t talk.”

Thomas can do nothing but stand there helplessly as Alexander grinds up against him, and all the while the song blaring through the speakers takes on a much more sultry tone. On top of this, he hadn’t even been completely sure if Alexander was into guys. This is all the confirmation he needs, though.

Thomas goes with it. His hands latch onto Alexander’s hips and he moves with the same sultry beat, their forms becoming just another tangle of bodies amongst the crowd.

He feels as if his whole being is on fire, and his face is, surely. Alexander only adds fuel to the flame as he flips and presses his backside against Thomas, his hands holding firmly onto the ones secured on his hips.

Does he dance like this with all his friends? Thomas can’t help but think as he moves along to Alexander’s rhythm, the shorter man grinding back obscenely onto him. He makes a mental note to ask one of them someday. If he ever makes it out of this alive, that is.

Yes, he will admit it’s enjoyable, albeit wrong, dancing with Alexander like this, but it’s all too much for Thomas. The flashing lights, the deafening music, and the fact that Alexander is pressing up against his crotch are starting to overwhelm him. They’ve barely been here an hour, but honestly, that’s enough. Thomas is slightly afraid he’s going to somehow lose Alexander in the chaos, and he can’t exactly leave the club without him.

He feels alone in this massive crowd of people, even with a man shamelessly grinding on him.

“Darlin’,” Thomas says, the alcohol bringing his accent out slightly. He turns Alexander around and holds onto his shoulders gently. “We’re going back to the hotel.”  
  
This club wasn’t nearly as fun as Alexander had made it out to be. Lost in a mass of unfamiliar bodies and faces was not exactly one of Thomas’s happy places.

“What?” Alexander says, staring back up at Thomas with a confused look. “No, I want to dance.”

“No, we’re going back.” Thomas gently drags Alexander out of the club, despite his protests. “You’re drunk, and this place is starting to creep me out.”

Alexander falls asleep on the taxi ride back to the hotel. Thomas regrets having to wake him after the 20-minute drive, as it’s very clear he needs the sleep, but he wasn’t really willing to carry Alexander through the hotel and up to their room.

Alexander is surprisingly quiet for a drunk person, and if Thomas didn’t know how much alcohol he’d consumed that night, he’d almost think Alexander was sober. Thomas holds onto his arm to keep him steady as they walk through the lobby, and a clock on the wall says it’s 10:42. It’s not late at all, but considering they slept in Alexander’s little Honda in a Wal-Mart parking lot last night, he was more than willing to go to bed.

Once he does get into the room, though, an old problem resurfaces.

Sleeping arrangements.

Alexander grumbles something incoherent as he plops down onto a chair, and Thomas shoves a water bottle at him. Not just any water bottle, either, one of those fancy $10 water bottles you find in the fridges of fancy hotels. They’d stupidly left their cooler full of water bottles in the car, which was now tucked away in the hotel’s massive parking lot.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better when you wake up,” he says, not pulling his arm away until Alexander accepts and drinks the water.

Shortly after taking a single sip, Alexander falls asleep on the chair.

Thomas sees no point in making things complicated. The bed is big enough for both of them to share, and though it’s probably more suited for a married couple, Thomas isn’t going to make a drunk man sleep on the couch.

He isn’t going to let himself sleep on the couch, either.

It’s a bit of a task, but after pulling off Alexander’s black jeans, and feeling horribly invasive all the while, he scoops up the small man and tucks him under the covers of the bed. Thomas finds it miraculous how Alexander doesn’t wake up.

He’s much too exhausted to shower at this point, and he didn’t do too much dancing anyway, so Thomas slips out of his jeans and tank top and slides on a soft old t-shirt, one he’s had for who knows how long. He’s made a habit of sleeping in it, though.

After finishing his nightly routine of brushing his teeth, taking out his contacts, and washing his face, he finally, carefully, slips into bed beside Alexander.

The bed is warm and comforting, having already been heated up by the body of another. It soothes Thomas’s aching muscles, and he sighs as he leans into the soft mattress. The soft sheets feel wonderful against his skin, and he lets himself sink into the warmth.

He’s not sure how Alex is going to react to this when he wakes up, but based off what they were doing earlier that night, Thomas is sure Alex won’t be that opposed to the idea of sharing a bed.

His back to Alexander, it takes only a couple minutes for him to fall asleep.

 

 

Alexander isn’t sure what time it is when he wakes up, but if he knows one thing for sure, it’s that his head is pounding.

He briefly recalls the events of the previous night. The club, lots of alcohol, some dancing.

A quick glance at the hotel alarm clock says that it’s 3:28 am.

At that moment, Alexander realizes where exactly he is. This is much too soft to be a couch or the floor.

He slowly looks over to the sleeping figure next to him, and almost jumps at the sight. Thomas Jefferson is lying in bed with him, sleeping quietly on his stomach with his head turned to the left, which happens to be Alexander’s side of the bed.

Alexander wonders how he got here. He remembers only vague details about last night, nothing about getting into bed with Thomas.

If he really was that drunk, Thomas must have been the one to put him in bed. Which means Thomas consciously put him into the bed, and then climbed in with him.

Alexander sits up, leaning back on his palms. A little bit of moonlight shines through a crack in the curtains, illuminating the room in the slightest. A beam of moonlight shines directly onto Thomas’s sleeping form.

Alex begins to climb out of the bed, ready to gather a blanket and sleep on the couch. The whole situation is odd, like he’s treading forbidden territory. He’s prepared to flee; he's not quite sure he wants to wake up next to Thomas again, next to someone he’s labeled as a “rival” for so long.

But as Alexander looks at the dark freckles painted across Thomas’s sleeping face, he figures that maybe he could stay a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One time someone was painting my face and they kept kneeing my crotch and I was like… :/
> 
> And yup. A nightclub. I’m a huge sucker 4 that cliche, I am so sorry oh my god
> 
> Also if you’re wondering what happened to alex and tommy’s car…. Valet.  
> And if you’ve ever been to a hotel with a valet, you know it's a pain in the ass to get the car back
> 
> Also i feel like thomas is totally the type of person who would sleep naked. However i felt that was a little inappropriate given the situation
> 
> Thank you sooo much for reading. <3 comments and reviews are ALWAYS appreciated! Also, lemme know if there are any continuity mistakes or typos!!
> 
> See you next week!! <3


	4. should i continue this fic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little note

Hi guys, it's been a really fucking long time since I've updated this fic...

And now that I have the time, I'm wondering... should I continue it?

Please comment and let me know :)


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